By The Book
by lakerie
Summary: A how-to book, a fishing trip, and a handful of bad guys. What could possibly go wrong?


Summary: Danger, jewel thieves, and stranger with a past. Can Jim and Blair ever have a normal fishing trip? No.

Warning: Contains mild swearing and violence

Disclaimer: Pet Fly and Paramount have all rights to The Sentinel. No infringement either intended or implied. No money has changed hands.

A/N: This has been lying dormant on a disc for many years. Posted once upon a time at the Cascade Library, I decided to blow the dust off and repost after giving it a once over. (Original beta by Arianna many, many years ago.)

* * *

"What are those two up to now?" Blair wondered to himself as he stood outside the bustling Cascade police headquarters. The warmth of the midday sun warmed his face as he observed Jim and Simon walking towards him across the busy street. Both men sipped from steaming paper cups while swapping a small book back and forth, pointing out passages and snickering like a pair of schoolboys with their first girlie magazine. Neither man appeared to notice him standing beside the double glass doors until Jim's head snapped up and met his curious gaze. The book quickly got shoved inside a decorative bag bearing the logo of a nearby bookstore.

"Hey, Chief," the detective greeted.

"Jim." Blair casually cast a glance towards the bag and nodded, "Let me guess, Marvel comic has a new edition of Superman out?"

Simon sputtered on a mouthful of coffee, choking on a grunt he tried unsuccessfully to hold back. "Sandburg."

Ignoring his partner's quip, a sly smile tugged at the corners of Jim's chiseled features. "As a matter of fact, Chief, while we were picking these up," he waggled his cup, "down the block, a new display in the bookstore window caught our eye."

Blair's own blue eyes narrowed with suspicion. "I can only imagine what captured both of your imaginations."

"Well," with a clearing his throat Jim thrust the bag at Blair, "it occurred to us that this could be something you might find useful."

Hesitant, Blair's brow crinkled when he removed the bright red paperback and read the title aloud, "_Surviving Life's Little Emergencies_. Gee, thanks guys, I'm touched."

"Maybe now I'll see a few less reports from Cascade General coming across my desk with your name on them, Sandburg," Simon growled with a mock glare to his senior detective before shifting to smile at the curly haired observer. "And with your karma, who knows how long it'll be before you need to know how to run from a bear."

"Plus," Jim added as he plucked the book from Blair's hand and zipped it into the ever present backpack, "it's travel size." Patting his partner on the shoulder as he passed by to follow Simon through the double glass doors, he failed to turn around and catch the flash of misery that colored his friend's face.

Blair no longer felt the warmth of the sun as he slipped off his pack and removed the offending item, its crisp pages fluttering open from a slight breeze. He knew the pair bought the book as a gag, but it only served to remind him again of how easily he got into trouble. With a pang to his gut, he stuffed the book back between the heavy tomes he'd already been carrying, before casting a resigned departing glance towards the now cold building. Suddenly feeling out of place, his weary feet carried him back towards his parked car.

* * *

Blair stilled his fingers on the keyboard upon hearing the loft door open and close. The abandoned cursor on the half finished article blinked steadily while Blair contemplatd ignoring his roommate, before he resumed typing. A pause occured when the man in question poked his head around the corner of the doorway.

"Chief, where'd you go? I thought you were coming in to give me a hand with paperwork."

"Something came up."

The clipped answer triggered a frown. "Like what?"

Scrolling down the screen he'd been working on, Blair sighed distractedly "Just stuff, Jim. I've got a paper to finish and some class work to complete for my students."

Jim watched his roommate focus on the computer. "Oh, I thought you might be upset about the book."

"What makes you think I might be upset?"

Listening to Blair's steady rise in heart rate, it did not take a genius to figure out that the gag had backfired badly. The question was 'why'. "Chief?"

Hands stopped moving but Blair refused to look at the detective.

Bending down to be at eye level, Jim placed his hand on the smaller man's rigid shoulder to get his attention. "I'm sorry."

Blair turned to ascertain the sincerity of Jim's words before allowing the tension to ease. "I read it this afternoon."

"You did?" Hesitant disbelief faded to a grin.

Blair shifted to reach for his backpack on the floor behind him. "Yes."

"And, did you get anything out of it?"

The small red book appeared from beneath the leather flap. "Mm-hm."

"You're going to make me work for this, aren't you, Chief?"

Indigo eyes glanced innocently to meet the raised brows.

Taking a seat on the edge of the futon, Jim hooked his foot around the bottom of his guide's chair and spun him around to face the detective. "What'd you learn?"

Slowly a smile emerged over Blair's face as he scratched at his jaw. "Well, as near as I can figure…pretty much out-drive you, survive being stranded in the wilderness, and land a plane. Who says an ex-Black Op Ranger can be the only bad boy in town?"

"So," relieved to be off the hook, Jim gave the chair and its occupant a gentle push back towards the desk, "does this mean I'm forgiven?"

Blair reached down into his pack and withdrew the red paperback. With an absent toss it sailed thorough the air at his friend. "Maybe you should read up on a few chapters. We're still going camping Friday, right?"

Jim stood and made to leave, but not before taking a swipe at the bowed mass of chestnut curls. "Smart ass," he grumbled on his way out to the living room with book in hand.

Focus once more on his half finished article, Blair glanced briefly towards the retreating figure, "Maybe so, Jim, but always better to be a smart one than a dumb one."

* * *

The book circulated throughout Major Crimes for the remainder of the week, eventually returned to Blair in time for the camping trip. What had started out as an innocent and fun loving joke had grown into a full-blown department wide gag as to who could add the best 'life-saving' tips for their challenged observer.

Sitting in the seat behind Jim and Simon as they drove through the mountains, Blair skimmed through the final additions to his book. Colored post-it notes and highlighted paragraphs, as well as hand drawn cartoons, littered the pages. Everyone in the precinct appeared to have imparted their wisdom in one form or another in the margins, leaving no page unturned.

Blair burst out laughing at a particular passage causing both Jim and Simon to look over their shoulders. Noticing that Blair was holding the book upside down, as he studied a page intently, Jim reached out to snatch the paperback and see what had his friend in stitches.

"No," Blair laughed as he moved out of Jim's reach.

"Come on, Chief, give it up. Simon and I have had to listen to you since we left Cascade."

A mock glare dared an attempt as the book was hastily shoved out of sight.

"Don't make me stop this car, Sandburg," Simon threatened.

Blair stared at the back of the Captain's head in amazement, and then held his steady as a rock hands in the air.

"That's it, Chief, I'm coming back there." Grinning as he unbuckled his seat belt, Jim leaned around the seat, catching Blair by the shirtsleeve and attempted to pull him forward, but stopped in surprise when Simon reached over and cuffed him on the side.

"Ellison, put your butt back in the seat, you're blocking the mirror. The last thing I need is to get pulled over cause the two of you are horsing around."

Jim flipped the visor mirror down so he could watch his friend, and was rewarded with a mischevious grin as the book reappeared, once more out of reach. When Simon cleared his throat, Blair looked over and caught his eye in the rearview mirror. Even with sunglasses on, Simon had his 'I'm the Captain, do as I say' glare aimed right at the young man.

"What? I didn't do anything," Blair grumbled as he slouched in his seat and opened the book back up.

Jim chuckled at his partner's antics until he also found himself recipient of the glare. Turning his gaze out the window, he watched the scenery pass and tried to ignore the stifled chortles from the backseat.

"Sandburg?" The captain's deep voice rumbled.

The young observer looked up and saw that Simon watching him in the mirror again. "Simon?"

"I heard that someone wrote an article on how to survive me in there. Is that true?"

Glancing down at the book in his hands, he mentally ran through his best obfuscations and swallowed, "Just a little one."

"Who wrote it?"

Blair had recognized Henri's handwriting instantly but was not about to get his friend in trouble. "Um, it wasn't signed."

"I see. Well, would you like to share what the unknown author had to say about your commanding officer?"

Blair sat up straighter and looked at Simon in the mirror. "Technically, Simon, you aren't really my," but stopped at Jim's abrupt cough that sounded very much like a choked version of 'Sandburg'.

Glancing to his partner, who was still looking out the window slowly shaking his head 'no', and then to Simon who had his right eyebrow raised as if daring him to finish what he started, Blair shifted in his seat, slowly flipping through the pages.

"The part about you, Simon, just says to, well, how to," Blair paused as he rolled his eyes towards the roof trying desperately to think of a way to get out of telling.

"How to what, Sandburg?" The older man asked, waiting like a snake ready to strike.

Blair shifted, looking at Jim for help and not getting any, looked back at Simon. Why was there never a bad guy around when you needed one? "It said 'see the bear attack chapter'."

Silence filled the Jeep as it hummed along the highway.

"Is that all it said, Sandburg?"

"Well, no."

Jim was practically dying, looking out the window. He had read what Henri had written about their boss and had even helped with suggestions for the cartoon directions. Blair was in deep, and listening to him start to squirm was great!

"Detective?"

Jim turned towards Simon after wiping all expression off his face. Oh, nuts…Simon knew. "Sir?"

"Maybe you could help your partner?" Simon's eyes twinkled behind his sunglasses.

"Me, sir?"

"Well, didn't I see you and Henri working on the bear chapter…together?"

Jim shot Blair a glance and was amazed to see sheer amusement radiating off his young friend's face. He was doomed.

"Simon," Blair called out from the backseat, "I see a convenience store sign ahead. Can you pull over, because I think my coffee has run its course?"

Casting a quick glance over his shoulder at Blair and then to Jim, Simon was amazed at how fast Blair covered for Jim. "Sure, we need to stop and pick up some bait anyway." Looking back at Jim, he slowly raised his eyebrows, "We can finish this discussion later."

"Yes, sir."

Simon returned to the Jeep first, putting the bait in the small portable cooler. Spying the red cover to Blair's book tucked between the back seats, he glanced back to the store. Certain the others weren't on their way out, he quickly opened it, skimming to the bear chapter.

He knew instantly that the cartoon bear represented him because it had on small glasses; a long cigar clenched between fierce teeth, and was shaking an empty coffee pot in the air. In front of the irate bear stood a short boy with long curly hair, the letter 'S' boldly emblazoned on the middle of his sweatshirt, courageously holding out a bag of coffee beans.

It was the caption that was Simon's undoing. 'Super Hairboy stands up and shows no fear' was scrawled in Henri's handwriting below the picture that made him laugh.

Checking once more to make sure Jim and Blair remained occupied; he flipped through the book, stopping at another cartoon of a ferocious mountain lion with white socks on each paw. This time, the curly haired boy had a whip snapping in the air with one hand while holding out a donut in the other with the caption, 'Super Hairboy confronts the angry beast'.

Simon forced himself to stop laughing when he saw Sandburg exit the store, waving a box of donuts in the air. Jim followed him happily, carrying a small brown bag of groceries. Tucking the book back in the seat, he climbed in the driver's seat and waited on his friends. Later, he'd have a chat with Super Hairboy and maybe even Detective Brown.

Loaded with supplies and back on the road, Blair leaned over the seat to look at the map Jim had unfolded. "So, how'd you find out about this spot we're going to, Simon?"

"Old fishing buddy was telling me about some amazing Rainbow Trout he caught at a secret spot." Simon grinned, "After threatening to throw him jail for withholding pertinent information valuable to an ongoing investigation, he 'fessed up."

"I've never been to Blanca Lake. Have you, Jim?"

"Yeah, back in high school, a group of us hiked the trail and camped for a weekend. It's not an easy hike, but definitely worth the trip. Wait until you see it, the water is turquoise."

"How about you, Simon?" Blair asked

"Nope, this is a first for me, too, Sandburg."

"Hey, Chief, check this out," Jim gestured to a small creek on the map and laughed. "Troublesome Creek. Good thing you brought your book."

"You know, partner, I was being good and put it away. Keep this up and I'll read you the part about you!"

Simon grinned. "Actually, that's the area where we're headed, Jim. The trout are supposed to be up there, just waiting for us to catch them."

A cool breeze ruffled Blair's hair as he stood gazing out across the silent sparkling water. "Man, Simon, this is beautiful." Dropping his heavy backpack at their intended campsite, he made his way to the water's edge and peered into the clear bluish-green depths, watching the fish swam lazily beneath the surface. "I've been to a lot of places, but this, this is breathtaking."

Simon and Jim stood back and watched the young observer marvel over the lake and glacier off in the distance.

"Good call, Simon," Jim said quietly as they turned and headed back to set up camp.

The rare relaxed smile that graced his bosses face spoke volumes. "I didn't make it to Captain on my good looks alone, Jim."

"Never said you did, sir."

"And what exactly, does that mean, Detective?"

The friendly banter faded as the two men returned to set up camp leaving Blair to explore the rocky shoreline alone. Several small smooth stones caught his attention and, after inspecting each one for an ancient fossil, he skipped them out across the glassy plane, enjoying the ripples they caused break across the surface. His last one made it five hops before settling to the bottom. "Let's see you beat that, Ellison."

Following the water's edge, Blair's wandering brought him to a deep inlet hidden by tall conifers and large boulders left thousands of years ago by a receding glacier. A huge chunk of gray stone, that had been deposited away from the others, and was almost surrounded by water and rising at least fifteen feet above the surface, caught his eye. It looked like a perfect natural diving platform into the deep depths.

Carefully, he climbed to the top of his newfound perch and admired the dazzling view of the lake as the sunset's reflection cast shades of gold and orange across the darkened water. He could have remained there for hours but knew Jim and Simon were probably wondering where he was. He had just turned to make his way back down when he spied a red piece of material tied to a small branch that was wedged into a crevice on his perch. Knowing the importance of keeping the wilderness clean, he laid flat on his stomach and reached down to snag the piece of cloth, successfully pulling it free and placing it in his jacket pocket.

Finished with the small task, he rose again to his feet for one last look before heading back down. Standing with his feet on the edge, he inhaled deeply, closed his eyes, and allowed nature to encompass him. Totally unprepared for any intrusion upon his meditation, the sudden sharp smack against his lower left leg startled him, and he spun around to see what had happened. Misjudging his steps, Blair called out for Jim as he found himself flailing helplessly backwards in the air, banging his shoulder against the gray stone, and then hitting the water face-first, like a ton of bricks.

Stunned by the impact, Blair gasped, taking in a mouthful of water as he went under. Momentarily confused, he struggled against strong hands that pulled him upwards towards the surface. With eyes closed, he stilled as he realized his friend had rescued him, allowing himself to be dragged out of the frigid water.

* * *

Jim chuckled as he listened to Blair skip stones, challenging him to a match during their trip. With the camp set up and Simon happily smoking a cigar as he 'test' cast his line out over the water, Jim went looking for his wayward partner. He was surprised to discover that Blair was not in sight, as he didn't think the young man had gone that far. The sudden panicked shout for him broke the stillness.

"Blair!" He yelled as he charged over the rocks and mud in the direction of his friend's call. Not hearing his partner again, he stopped briefly to stretch his senses, searching for his guide.

Simon had dropped his gear to race behind Jim, but stilled when the detective held up his hand. "Anything?"

Jim's hardened features shifted from concentration to action as he located his partner's heartbeat and began to run, rounding the bend leading to the inlet. Spying Blair's soaked still figure laying on the rocky shoreline, he dropped to his knees and checked for a pulse. When the young man stirred, Jim gently gathered him into his arms, pushing the wet curls off his face. "Blair, come on, buddy," he encouraged as his friend shivered and coughed up water.

"Jim." Simon shrugged out of his jacket, handing it to his friend.

Wrapping the large warm coat around Blair, Jim checked for injuries and listened to his friend's lungs. Satisfied that Blair didn't suffer from anything serious, he patted the young man on the cheeks.

Relief shone on his face when Blair's eyes opened, slowly recognizing the older man. "Jim," he whispered as he reached out to grasp his friend's shirt.

Simon knelt beside the pair, placing a comforting hand on Blair's leg. "Jim, we need to get him back to camp."

"Can you walk, Chief?"

Blair gave a small nod as he tried to stand up.

"Let us help you," Simon offered, placing a hand underneath Blair's arm, while Jim lifted the other.

Slowly they made their way back, stopping several times when Blair began to cough, spitting up water. Shook-up and hurting from the fall, he leaned fully against Jim for support.

"Almost there, buddy," Jim, murmured when Blair stumbled. "Simon?"

"One step ahead of you, Jim," the older man replied as he let go of Blair's arm and jogged ahead to set up what they would need at the campsite.

Jim used their slow walk back to check Blair once again. "Chief, how you doing?"

"Cold and wet." Pain filled eyes met Jim's concerned gaze. "My head's pounding, my eyes hurt, and I feel like I got sacked by a quarterback." Realization dawned in his expressive face as he took in Jim's dry clothing, "You're not wet."

The detective glanced down at his dry clothes, "Why would I be wet?"

"You pulled me out, when I fell in."

Jim slowly shook his head, "No, we found you lying on the shore, Chief. There wasn't anyone else around."

The young man turned to look behind them. "Jim, someone pulled me out of the water."

Immediately opening his senses, the detective scanned the surrounding area. "There's no one around, now, Blair. Let's get you back to camp and you can tell me what happened."

By the time Blair changed into dry clothes and found himself wrapped in a sleeping bag, he had described his brief mishap. He had a bruised shoulder and a small welt had formed on the back of his leg that he couldn't explain. Gratefully accepting Simon's offered aspirin and water, he stretched out by the fire and closed his eyes.

Seeing the young man resting, Simon went to stand beside Jim. "Do you want to go back there and see what spooked the kid, while I stay here?"

"Yeah, I'd like to get a quick look around before it gets too dark. Maybe I can find whoever pulled him out. "

Jim leaned over Blair and listened to his clear lungs. The young man's hair was now dry and his cheeks a rosy pink. Gently brushing his hand over Blair's forehead checking for a temperature, he noted the cool skin. They had been fortunate this time.

"I'll be back soon, Chief. Simon's here if you need anything," he whispered.

* * *

­­­­Jim chuckled softly to himself as he followed Blair's original path along the lake. It appeared that the young man had stopped and touched almost everything he came across. Reaching the spot where they had found Blair, Jim carefully studied his surroundings. The tall stone that Blair described taking a tumble off was fifteen feet away. Carefully, the detective climbed it, letting his senses help him track his partner's movements. A golf ball sized rock lay on top of Blair's perch matching the welt on his leg and had his scent. Had someone thrown the rock at Blair? Standing and scanning the surrounding area, Jim spotted a previously unnoticed trail leading into the forest.

"Jim?" Simon's voice interrupted over the radio in his pocket.

"Yeah, Simon."

"Find anything?"

"There's a path into the woods, near Blair's accident, that I want to take a look at."

"Are you going to check it out now or head back?"

"Now. Why, is Blair alright?"

"He's fine, Jim. As a matter of fact, if the kid continues to snore so loud, he's going to scare off anything for a mile."

Jim stopped and listened. Yeah, that was Sandburg all right. "If he gets too bad, give him a little nudge and he'll stop."

"I don't even want to know how you know that, Detective. "

Jim tucked the radio back in his coat pocket and glanced at his watch. He knew he had a little over an hour of daylight left. "Okay, Chief, let's see where this yellow brick road goes."

Cautiously, he followed the small path into the forest, searching for any sign of prints. Other than deer and fox, he didn't come across anything out of the ordinary.

Removing his radio, he thumbed the call button, "Simon?"

"Yes, Jim?" Banks promptly answered, "Anything on your end?"

"That's a negative."

"Jim?" Blair's familiar voice called over the radio.

"Chief, feeling better?"

"Yeah, man, warm again. Jim, did you try using your senses?"

"There's nothing here, Blair. "

"Maybe I should join you?"

"No, stay put because I'm on my way back. Let's see how things go tonight before we start poking around anymore."

"Okay, Simon's got dinner going so hurry back before he burns…ouch!"

"Chief?"

Simon's deep voice came back, "Your hairy little friend is finishing dinner, Ellison. We'll see you in a bit."

Slowly leaving the trail, Jim again studied the mud along the water's edge. Squatting beside some small-disturbed stones, he carefully pushed a few away, revealing a fresh boot print that was unfamiliar. Pretending to fix his bootlace, he opened his senses, searching for the individual responsible.

He picked up a faint unfamiliar scent of another person, possibly two. Cautiously, he made his way back to camp.

Jim could hear the two men talking as he drew near to the site. The smell of wood smoke and hot dogs wafted on the gentle breeze towards him. Twice on his way back to camp, he got the feeling of someone watching him. Both times, he stopped and opened up his senses, finding only his friends and campers on the other side of the lake. The rich earthy smell of the forest could be disguising whoever was watching him.

As sunset slowly slipped a veil of darkness over the mountain, he rejoined his friends.

A lone figure hidden amongst the trees, glared across the water, at the intruders camping near 'his' spot. He scowled as he watched the two larger members hover around the kid as they sat talking and eating dinner by the fire.

Pegging that runt with the rock had made him feel better after the kid pulled his marker down. The bonus of the kid taking a header into the lake made his day. He'd seen the hermit roaming about in the woods before, and wasn't surprised when the old guy jumped in, and pulled the longhaired kid out.

Safely back on the other side of the inlet, he'd watched the big guy snooping about where the kid fell in. Damn, all these people around were going to mess this up for him. Shaking his head in disgust, he slowly melded back into the forest. He'd waited almost six months for the others to show, and with them due in less than 48 hours; he'd have to think of something quick to get rid off the campers. Messing with the kid might just do the trick.

Jim stood taking in the view of the morning sun's reflection out across the lake. Refreshed from a good night's sleep, he was ready to get this fishing trip up and running. He turned to check on his friend, as he heard Blair grunt and then blearily sit up and rub his eyes. "How'd you sleep, Chief?"

"Like a rock," the young man answered sourly. "Or maybe I just slept on one." Pulling his sleeping bag off the ground, the irritable young man discovered the object of his discomfort and pitched it towards the water.

"Don't tell me, Princess found the pea," Simon chortled as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

"If you're finished, Simon, hand me a cup of coffee."

Simon shot Jim a look of surprise at Blair's comment, but the detective just smiled and shook his head slowly, mouthing the word 'coffee'.

"Well, Sandburg, since you asked so nicely, you can have mine. Next time, try the magic word."

Blair looked apologetic up at the tall captain beside him holding out his cup. "Sorry, Simon. Thanks."

"I didn't realize you weren't a morning person, Blair. " Simon handed Jim a cup of coffee and shuddered as he passed by, "I feel for you, Jim; my ex-wife wasn't a morning person either."

"I heard that," Blair grumbled.

"I bet you did." Simon shook his head as he turned towards the woods. "Jim, I think I'm going to go for a little walk. Anyone around I should know about?"

"I haven't heard anything."

"Good." Simon rummaged through his pack and pulled out a fishing magazine, "Turn those ears off for a few minutes and give a man some privacy."

Pulling his partner to his feet, Jim hauled Blair down to the water's edge. "Come on, Chief, let's go look for the fish."

Silence from his roommate, as they walked the shoreline, caught Jim's attention and he stopped the young man with a hand on his shoulder, "What's your problem this morning?"

Blair sighed. "Jim, I haven't been out of Cascade for 24 hours and I've already fallen off a rock. I totally understand why you guys got me that book. It makes perfect sense. Maybe I could hit a bear with it or leave a trail of pages while getting lost in the woods."

Jim looked thoughtful for a moment. "I hadn't thought of the trail of pages."

The commment earned a halfhearted slug to the older man's arm.

"Hey, now see, there's a perfect example of self defense, Chief." Jim reached back to swipe at the curly head but missed.

"Keep it, up old man. But remember I'm younger, smarter, more fun with the ladies, and--"

"All talk no action. You know, some ladies like the silent, brooding, mysterious types."

"Jim, if they want that, they get a cat," Blair deadpanned.

Jim stopped walking along the water's edge to stare at his partner. "You're just full of piss and vinegar this morning, aren't you?"

Straight-faced, Blair stopped to meet his partner's glare, "One word, my friend: me-ow."

Neither man moved, each waiting for the other to laugh or look away first.

"I swear," Simon's deep voice rumbled behind them. "If I had known I was taking children on this trip, I would have brought Daryl."

Blair lost it first.

"I win, Chief," Jim gloated smugly.

Simon stepped in-between his two friends, separating them. "Are you two finished, because I'd like to know what the plans for the day are going to be? Do we go fishing or head back?"

"We're not ready to pack it in yet, Simon. We came here to fish, so I say let's fish."

"Okay, it's settled then." Simon walked back to the campsite calling out over his shoulder, "Come along, kids; Dad wants his breakfast before we start."

The partners simultaneously shot each other a glance and mouthed the word 'dad' with a smirk before following Simon.

With the breakfast finished and fishing gear assembled, each man silently picked out his spot along the shoreline and began casting. Simon and Jim had taken positions on either side of Blair, not leaving any chances for the young man to wind up in trouble.

The noon sun raised the air temperature to a more comfortable level, and soon the three men found themselves taking off their jackets and rolling up their sleeves, as they each silently lost themselves in the activity of fishing.

After an hour of standing in one spot, Blair began to grow restless. He could go only so long without making noise. Spying his partner intently reeling in a nice sized trout, Blair couldn't resist breaking his friend's concentration. Sentinel-soft he began to meow.

Jim steadfastly ignored the younger man, but Blair could see a small smile flitter across his friend's face.

Turning back to the water, he continued softly as he cast his line back out across the water, "You know the chapter about how to deal with wild cats was really interesting." He could feel his partner staring at him, but he refused to give Jim the satisfaction of looking over. "Yep, how you have to make yourself appear all big and nasty to them. Maybe that's why you hook up with scary women."

Pausing for effect, Blair could not resist, "Maybe I should test this theory."

For the second time in less than 24 hours, Blair felt the sharp sting of a stone hitting him, only this time on the right arm. Abruptly, he stopped his musings and turned to see his larger friend advancing rapidly towards him. Dropping his pole, Blair laughed and ran to where Simon was standing, attempting to hide behind the tall captain.

"Sandburg," he grunted with his cigar clenched tightly between his teeth, "I'm trying to catch some fish. If you two need to play, go do it elsewhere."

Jim stopped beside Simon and grinned as he held up his stringer with two large rainbow trout attached. "I caught my dinner, Simon. How are you doing?"

"Well, as a matter of fact, Jim," Simon countered as he pulled his stringer out of the water, with a large fat trout attached, "looks like I'm having fish for dinner." Casting a glance over his shoulder to his young friend hiding behind him, he grinned, "Blair, have any luck?"

Both men had been watching Blair as he fished and knew he hadn't caught a thing.

The anthropologist glanced around Simon to look at Jim's fish and then to Simon's. "I think you guys scared them all off. I'm going to try a little farther down shore after bit."

Jim smiled as held out his fish towards Blair. "Make you a deal, Chief, you clean the fish and cook dinner, and we will be glad to share."

"Sounds fair to me, Sandburg," Simon countered with a grin.

Blair rolled his eyes, as he took their fish and turned to head back towards camp carrying the catch. "Oh, yay."

The two older men watched the retreating back of their friend as he disappeared from view. Soon they could see smoke lazily drifting skyward from their campsite.

"How's he doing, Jim? He seems a bit quieter than usual."

Jim stopped to listen to his friend and smiled. "Judging by the amount of grumbling he's doing at the moment, Simon, I think he's returning to normal."

oOo

For some reason Blair always found strange comfort in building a campfire. There was something about watching the initial flame greedily devour small pieces of pine bough and the sound of snapping pitch that popped small red embers into the air. The slowly added pieces of scavenged hardwood from the surrounding forest floor burned hot to create a perfect bed of coals.

Sitting back on his heels he judged at least half an hour before the fire would be ready to start to cook, but that would give him plenty of time to skin and fillet the fish. Digging through his pack he removed the bag of herbs that he had crammed together before leaving, as well as foil, butter, three potatoes, and his knife. Jim and Simon didn't know everything that he'd brought, and lunch was going to be a treat.

After cleaning and deboning the trout, Blair placed each piece in foil with pads of butter, salt and pepper, and parsley. Pulling out his secret stash of cashews, he crushed them into pieces before sprinkling the flavorful nuts on top and sealing the bundles. The fish would need ten minutes max, so he cubed the potatoes with a little wild onion and placed the foil wrapped bundle into the fire to get a head start. Finished, he cleaned up the fish remains and wrapped them in newspaper.

Not wanting to attract bears or any other scavengers he carried the package away from camp for burial, pausing momentarily for a wary glance towards the dense forest. Jim had checked the area earlier, and he knew his friend could hear him now, so taking a deep breath he made his way to the tree line. Little did he know that he was being watched as he slowly approached the trees.

'Come on, runt,' a lone figure silently urged, 'don't keep the boogieman waiting.' Slowly, the handle of the hunting knife the figure rolled between his thumb and index finger warmed to his touch.

oOo

Blair found a spot far enough away to dispose of the fish remains and not have to worry about animals raiding the campsite. Brushing dirt off his knees, he stood up and began to make his way back so he could finish lunch. He never heard the individual come up behind him, striking the back of his head with the knife handle. Collapsing to the ground without making a sound, he was at the mercy of his assailant.

Weary eyes tracked the movement of the stranger with the knife. He knew the dangerous man was following this group of campers because he had observed the stranger during his initial attack yesterday. After the stranger knocked the young man off the rock and then ran back into the forest, he had pulled the longhaired young man out of the water, but couldn't bring himself to get involved any further. Instead he had stuffed his rough hands into the pockets of his worn jacket and had slowly retreated a safe distance back in to the trees and waited.

Witnessing the knife poised to strike however forced him to move. He wouldn't let another die. When the young man collapsed and the man with the knife roughly began to drag his victim away, he began to run. Barreling into the attacker, he knocked the knife away and thrust the assailant to the ground.

The stranger was quick, rolling back onto his feet and advancing upon the mysterious rescuer. Slowly they circled one another, waiting for the other to make the first mistake. When Blair moaned, the rescuer cast the injured man a glance, just the amount of time the deadly assailant needed to pull his weapon and fire.

Agony coursed through the rescuer's right arm as the bullet tore its path, throwing him to the ground. Rolling away from danger, he discovered the knife. Grasping the handle, he quickly turned and released the weapon with fatal accuracy.

Its victim fell silently to the ground, never to utter another sound.

The unmistakable report had Jim and Simon dropping their fishing gear and running towards the woods. Passing through the campsite, they pulled their guns from their packs. Not needing to signal their intentions due to years of working together, they instinctively separated and advanced cautiously as they entered the shadows of dense trees.

Jim's heart quickened as he spied Blair's unmoving form lying on the ground, and he ran to his fallen partner. Dropping to one knee, he checked for a pulse as he scanned the area for danger. The slow steady beat thrummed beneath his fingers and he released the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.

Simon, meanwhile, circled around and entered the area behind the intruders with his weapon pointed at the scruffy man sitting on the ground holding an injured arm. Slowly, he stepped beside the individual with a knife sticking out of his chest and checked for a pulse, discovering there was none.

"Don't move," Simon warned the injured man as he carefully picked up the fallen gun. "Jim, how's Sandburg?"

"He's alive, Simon," Jim called out as he ran his hands over his friend. Blair groaned when his hand touched the knot on the base of his skull.

"Easy, Chief, I've got you," he whispered as Blair curled into a ball and tried to reach the back of his head. "Blair, are you hurt anywhere else, other than your head?"

"Jim?" Blair whispered.

"Can you open your eyes? I need to know if you're hurt."

"Head."

"You've got a welt on the back of your head, Chief, so take it slow. Are you hurt anywhere else?"

Blair started to shake his head but discovered that was a terrible idea when the throbbing pain up the base of his skull intensified. Clenching his eyes and holding his breath, he tried to ride out the waves of dizziness as they washed over him.

"Easy, Blair." Rubbing small steady circles across Blair's back, Jim could feel the tremors subside.

Slowly, Blair turned towards the detective, "Jim, what happened?"

"I was kind of hoping you could tell me, Chief."

Confusion clouded Blair's expression as he squinted, trying to focus on his partner. "No."

"That's okay, Blair." Turning to his boss, Jim saw Simon standing in front of a bearded man and another man dead with a knife in his chest. "Simon?"

"This guy hasn't said a word, Jim. How's Sandburg?"

"It looks like he got hit from behind."

Simon nodded as his eyes traced over Jim's partner. "Could you come over here and take a look at this guy's arm? I'm going to check the body for some ID."

"Chief?"

"Help Simon," Blair mumbled.

Jim gently laid Blair down, hating to step away from his friend. Walking over to the man seated on the ground, he bent down and looked at the silent stranger. "Who are you? What happened here?"

The man did not move.

A sense of deja vu washed over the detective as he searched the seated individual for weapons. The stranger appeared to be a mountain man, with long hair pulled back with a leather tie at his neck and a trimmed full beard framing his face. His clothes were clean as well as his person. In addition, while cleaning the gunshot wound, Jim noticed the mark on the man's upper arm.

Dark green eyes followed Jim's hands as the detective tore away his shirt exposing the deep graze. Silently, the stranger waited throughout the binding of his injury. As soon as he had the chance, he would leave.

Once Jim finished, he stood to survey the area. Stepping away for some privacy, he quietly signaled Simon.

"What do you think, Jim, because it looks to me like this guy might have saved Blair's life? As for the dead guy, I recognize him from the FBI's top ten list. He's Grant Spenser, wanted for bank robbery and murder."

"I'm not surprised. My guess is Spenser hit Blair and this fellow tried to help, earning himself a bullet hole. I bet he's our knife thrower, too"

Simon's eyes took in their surroundings and nodded. "We need to contact the authorities."

"Jim," Blair's soft voice interrupted.

Stepping over to his partner, Jim knelt down to his friend and helped him sit up.

"How're you doing?"

"I'm cold."

Jim pulled off his jacket and draped it over the young mans shoulders. "Where's your coat, Chief?"

"By the water, I forgot it earlier when we were fishing." Blair slowly pushed his arms through the long sleeves as Jim zipped the coat. Spying the fuzzy shape of the stranger for the first time, he drew back, "Who's that?"

"Good question, Chief, let's ask him back at camp. Simon, in my pack there's a small tarp that we can use to cover the body."

"We need to document the scene, Jim, before we go moving this guy. Blair, did you bring your camera?"

Blair squinted as he tried to focus on Simon, "In my pack."

"Okay, it's going to be some time before we get any help up here, so I'll go get what we need from camp. Jim, you can keep an eye on our guest and Sandburg."

Simon returned to discover that Jim had the stranger move closer to Sandburg so that he could keep an eye on both men. Handing the tarp to Jim, he proceeded to photograph the dead man and the knife. Once finished, they bundled up the body after putting the weapon in a large sealed plastic bag that they had brought for fish.

"We're going to have to bury him, to keep the animals away until we can get some help up here, Simon."

"I thought of that, too. You didn't happen to bring a shovel?"

"No. Maybe our guest would know where to find one."

"Jim, this guy is an absolute stranger involved in a homicide. What on earth has you so set that he isn't some escaped axe murderer out to do us all in?"

The tall detective shifted so that he could look closer at the silent figure, "His tattoo."

"His tattoo?" Simon repeated. "What tattoo?"

"On his arm, above the bullet wound. Simon, the guy's a ranger."

"As in Texas Ranger or forest ranger?"

"Army Ranger."

Simon turned to look closer at the seated man and then back to Jim. "That doesn't hold a lot of water with me, Jim. He could still just be some crackpot who used to be in the military."

"I don't think so, Simon. Look at the guy, he hasn't moved in almost an hour. In addition, he's not talking. These are the defensive postures to assume, if taken prisoner. If I were to guess, judging by his age and the tattoo, I'd say he's a Nam vet out here trying to survive."

Simon stared at Jim in amazement, "Are you nuts? Is there some kind of secret Ranger code that identifies the good ones from the bad ones?"

Jim walked over to the stranger and knelt down eye level. "My name is Detective Jim Ellison: the man standing behind me is Captain Simon Banks, and on the ground is my partner Blair Sandburg. We work with the Cascade Police Department. Can you tell me what happened here?"

The stranger's dark green eyes slowly turned and looked up at Jim. His gaze then drifted to Blair and finally to the body. Inner turmoil raged in his expressive eyes before he finally looked back at the detective. Nodding to Blair, he spoke one word in a quiet deep voice, "Marker."

"Marker? Is that your name? I'm not sure what you're trying to tell me."

Slowly shaking his head, the stranger looked back at Blair, "Marker."

"Jim," Blair interrupted quietly from his position on the ground, "the bandana I picked up yesterday, right before I fell in."

"Where'd you put it?"

"My coat pocket."

The significance of the marker on the shoreline was not lost on Jim or Simon as a sense of urgency suddenly settled upon the group.

"Simon, there was a footprint and I could tell someone had been there in the area where we found Blair. What if it's a meeting point?"

"If it's to be by boat or plane, we're close enough right now, to hear them coming. With their contact dead, what are they going to do?" Slipping a cigar between his teeth, Simon gnawed on the end in frustration. "Hell, Jim, we have no idea what's going on here."

"I bet he does," Jim turned to face the wounded man sitting on the ground.

Simon took off his glasses and rubbed his tired eyes, "Someday, I'd like to have a normal fishing trip." Placing the chewed on cigar back in his pocket, he assumed full Captain Mode and stood before the one person in the group who might be able to tell them what the hell Sandburg had fallen into this time.

The stranger watched Captain Banks closely as he advanced towards him. The air of authority was clear and he noticed the change in demeanor that let him know that the time for business had arrived. As much as he desperately wanted to leave these people, to be left alone, he knew that he couldn't abandon them.

In addition, there was something about the detective, Ellison, which exuded the confidence of a soldier. He had recognized a fellow warrior the moment he laid eyes on him.

Simon stood in front of the stranger, with his hands at his side, trying to appear unthreatening. Something about the silent figure seated in front of him reminded him eerily of Ellison before he had hooked up with Sandburg. The haunted look in the dark green eyes that followed each of them as they interacted, but then quickly darted to the ground, had not gone unnoticed by the captain.

"Sir, from all appearances, you are familiar with this area. Is there anything you could tell us that would be helpful with this current situation?"

The man stared intently at the ground before he suddenly raised his eyes to meet Simon's, "Cabin."

"How far?" Jim interrupted from his position next to Blair.

Shifting, the stranger looked over his shoulder and nodded in the direction of the deep forest, "Couple miles."

"It's going to get dark in a few hours, Simon, and we need to get Blair out of the elements. Sir, if there are others on their way, would you allow us to take our friend to your cabin, so that he'll be safe?"

Conflict warred across the man's face before he finally nodded. He rose warily to his feet, stumbling slightly due to blood loss and pins and needles shooting down his legs from sitting so long.

Simon was quick to lend a hand to the stranger, who was as big as he was. "Are you going to be alright?"

Now at eye level, the stranger nodded.

"It would be helpful if we knew your name. Blair is usually a lot more talkative and would have babbled until you gave in and told us, but since we can't go that route, how about a nickname at least?"

"Bishop."

"Bishop. Okay, that will work." Turning to check on Blair, Simon watched as Jim tended to his partner. The young man's eyes were closed and he looked pale as he leaned into Jim's arms while the larger man helped him stand. The police captain didn't miss the look of concern that met his gaze over the top of Sandburg's head.

"Simon, I need to grab our gear before he's totally out for the count. I'll take Blair with me to keep an eye on him."

"Okay, I'll take care of the body. The faster we get this done, the better." Simon looked at the silent man standing beside him and wanted to keep the stranger in sight, "You're coming with me."

Blair sat perfectly still with his eyes clamped shut and his head resting on his drawn-up knees. As long as he stayed exactly where Jim had left him, the thumping pain up the base of his skull was manageable. Listening to his partner's footsteps as he walked about packing their belongings, Blair found comfort in the running dialog Jim continued. The soft drone wrapped around him like a blanket, encompassing him until the quiet call of darkness stole him away.

"Chief?" Jim dropped the armload of fishing gear he carried back from the shoreline, and gathered his partner in his arms as the semi-conscious man slowly slid sideways to the ground. "Come on, Blair. You have to stay awake a little longer." Gently patting the younger man's cheeks, he watched for signs of his friend's returning awareness.

"Jim, I'm so tired," Blair whispered without opening his eyes. Encompassed in the strong arms of his partner, he could feel Jim's heartbeat against his head, soothing the pounding, relentless beat within his skull.

"I know, Blair, I know." Running his hand carefully along Blair's back and neck, Jim could feel the heat and swelling from the injury. "As soon as you're ready, we'll meet Simon and go to the cabin."

"Cabin?"

"Bishop's cabin, remember?"

Racking his tired brain, Blair vaguely remembered someone else. "That guy in the woods?"

"Yeah."

Blair was quiet as he tried to think. "You know him?"

"No, Chief, I'm just going on faith."

Shifting his head slowly to lean against Jim's shoulder, his indigo eyes cracked open to meet the older man's concerned gaze. "Okay."

A small smile settled across Jim's face as he took in Blair's trust. The kid made it seem so easy to just believe and everything would be all right. "Okay." Resting his head against soft auburn curls, Jim waited.

"Jim?"

"Hmmm?"

"I think I'm ready."

"It's only been a couple minutes, Chief."

"I know, but if I don't do this now, I'm never going to want to move."

Slowly releasing Blair and making sure he wasn't about to fall back over, Jim placed his hand on the thin shoulder, "Okay, well let me do all the work. I'm going to finish up with the packs, and then I'll give you a hand up."

Once on his feet, Jim quickly finished tearing down their campsite, leaving no trace of their stay. With his pack secured across his back, and the others looped through his left arm, he carefully maneuvered Blair to his feet.

Simon and Bishop met the two men at the foot of the forest and Simon quickly relieved Jim of the packs on his arm. Taking in Blair's shaky condition, they knew that they had to get moving.

Shooting a quick questioning glance around, Jim looked to his captain. "What'd you do with the body?"

Simon nodded to the silent man beside him, "Bishop showed me a small cave nearby and we put it there."

"I can carry the other pack," the stranger offered quietly as his eyes quickly assessed the young man.

"Thank you."

Bishop only nodded as Simon helped him put the pack on without jarring his injured arm. "Cabin's about a half hour walk from here."

"Ready, Chief?"

A small nod of the head and the group began their trek into the forest.

The walk would have been pleasant under any other circumstances but now the wary group followed the silent stranger through unfamiliar territory.

Blair had latched to Jim's side with his left arm wrapped tightly around his friend's waist and his right finger slipped through Ellison's belt loop; letting the older man lead, as he walked with his eyes closed.

"Almost there, Blair, just a little farther," Jim encouraged, glancing towards their guide for confirmation.

Bishop slowed his steady pace to turn and look at the men behind him. Haunted eyes once again cast over Blair before he quickly resumed his pace and continued towards his sanctuary. Finally, he stopped beside a huge moss-covered boulder and pointed towards a log cabin almost completely hidden by dense brush and evergreen trees.

Jim had spotted the cabin cleverly concealed amongst the tall trees and brush before Bishop pointed it out. Blair, on the other hand, never even opened his eyes as Jim led him through the doorway and carefully lowered him onto the single bed.

Sensing that he could rest, Blair slowly tipped sideways, but stopped when Jim's hand on his shoulder held him upright.

"Hold on a little longer, Chief. I want you to take some aspirin before you lie down." Slipping off his pack, Jim quickly unzipped a front pocket and retrieved his small first aid kit, finding the necessary tablets. A bottle of water was passed over his shoulder from Simon and Jim grunted thanks as he gently tapped Blair on the cheeks so that the young man would open his eyes.

Pain radiated throughout Blair's head as he cracked exhausted eyes and gazed at the blurry figure in front of him. "Jim?"

"Yeah. Take these and then you can rest." Placing the tablets in Blair's hands, Jim watched as the young man didn't make an effort to put them in his mouth. "Blair?"

"My head hurts," Blair whispered as he closed his eyes and tried to lie down again.

"I know, buddy. Almost done." Retrieving the tablets from Blair's hand, Jim tugged on the young man's chin so that he would open his mouth. Once the pills were deposited on his tongue, Jim tipped the bottled water so that Blair could wash the medicine down. Seeing that the aspirin was not about to make an immediate return, Jim helped Blair lie back and made his friend as comfortable as he could.

He was surprised when a small bucket of cold water was placed at his side along with a hand towel. Looking up to catch Bishop's concerned gaze, Jim nodded and wet the towel, placing it underneath Blair's neck at the base of his skull. The younger man sighed and mumbled something unintelligible before drifting off to sleep.

Jim completely forgot the two other men in the room as he sat on the side of the bed and watched his friend, until the sound of shuffling feet behind him caught his attention. He turned to observe Simon as his Captain helped Bishop sit on a small wooden stool, easing off the torn flannel shirt over the bloody bandage.

"Jim, you want to come over and take another look at this?"

With his attention focused on Blair, Jim realized that he'd overlooked the other injured man. Kneeling beside Bishop, he unwound the dressing, exposing the angry gunshot wound that had gouged a deep crease across the bicep. Damn, it had to hurt and the quiet stranger never complained. "I've got to disinfect this and it's probably going to burn like--" Jim started, but stopped when dark green eyes met his. Bishop's look was one he'd seen many times while he had been a medic in the Army, one of complete trust and understanding. "You've been through something like this before I take it?"

The slightest glimmer of a smile crossed Bishop's rugged face as he shrugged and steadied himself for the coming ministrations.

"Simon, would you hand me that bucket of water by Blair?" With as much care as he would give Blair or Simon, Jim cleaned and bandaged the wound. "You need to rest," he stated firmly as Bishop rose to his feet after Jim finished. "I want you to take some aspirin and lie down. You can use my sleeping bag."

A flash of protest crossed Bishop's face.

"My rank is Captain, soldier, and unless you can top that, I give the orders." Jim barked in his best officer voice, noticing the surprised glance from Simon.

A raging myriad of thoughts were exposed and then veiled behind lidded eyes as Bishop stood and retrieved a pack he had leaning behind the door. With a quick glance at Blair's still figure, the silent man left the cabin.

"Would you care to explain to me just what the hell you were doing, Detective?" Simon seethed. "I know you're worried about Sandburg, but maybe, just maybe, when your brain kicks back in, you'll haul your ass out there and go find him. He's the only one around right now that can help us."

"Simon."

The tall dark captain crossed his arms and glared down at Jim, "I don't want to hear it right now, Detective. I'll take care of Blair; you go find Bishop."

As dusk shrouded the forest in long shadows, Jim ran silently after the missing man. He discovered quickly that the former soldier was an expert at not leaving a trail, and Bishop would have been almost impossible to follow for two miles, except for the coppery scent of blood from the bullet wound. Eventually, he found himself on the path he'd discovered after Blair's fall. Slowing his pace, he proceeded cautiously to the forest's edge and remained hidden as he scanned the shoreline.

He could see a small Cessna floatplane tied up in the hidden inlet and counted three men standing on the bank. Even without sensitive hearing, he could pick up bits and pieces of their heated argument over their missing partner.

Working his way slowly closer to their position, he was surprised to spot Bishop hidden behind a tree, watching the strangers. The older man briefly glanced his way before holding up four fingers.

Four? Jim checked the area again and still came up with three.

Seeing the detective's confusion, Bishop pointed towards the water.

Looking closely, Jim spotted the steady stream of bubbles from an air tank behind the plane. The surface soon broke as the fourth man emerged from the dark water.

"I couldn't see a damn thing down there," the diver shouted angrily. "I'm gonna have to try again when the sun's up."

One of the figures on the bank stormed over to the water's edge shaking his head, "Jackson, get your ass out of the water! Mills, you come with me, while you two get camp set up. We need to go find Spenser. Damn moron's probably been eaten by a bear by now." Reaching down, the 'leader' picked up a rifle from the small arsenal laying on the ground, slipping it over his shoulder, then securing a handgun underneath his coat. "This won't take long. One of you idiots had better damn well not shoot us when we return, either." With that, two of group headed off towards Jim and Bishop's side of the inlet.

Bishop signaled Jim back into the trees. Safely out of earshot of the intruders, he sank to the ground.

"What's wrong?" Jim asked.

"Long day, Captain," Bishop retorted quietly with a snap.

Jim knew he deserved that so he remained silent for a moment. "Look, I was out of line. Any chance we can put that crack behind us and figure out what these guys are up to?"

The older man sat and ran his hand over his graying beard, as he watched the two remaining figures build a fire on the beach near the plane. The detective sitting beside him interrupted his thoughts.

"Did you know the dead guy? See him around here before?"

"I saw him down here a few times during the past few months. I avoided him until I saw him follow your friend, hitting him with the rock yesterday."

Realization dawned on Jim, "You pulled Blair out of the water."

Bishop merely shrugged.

Jim reached out and gripped the man's good arm, "Thank you."

All emotion drained from Bishop's face. "It was all I could do," he replied softly. Rising to his feet, he turned away from Jim. "We need to go back. Their fire is going to light up the woods and they might spot us."

Jim highly doubted that either man could be seen, especially with their Ranger skills. Something had changed in the older man's demeanor; he was beginning to relax in Jim's presence. Maybe his earlier reaction to all of them was shock from what had happened. Jim had his own share of flashbacks from his time in the service: maybe that's what happened to Bishop.

Safely on their way back to the cabin, Jim couldn't stop himself from asking questions.

"What's your real name?"

"Why do you want to know?" the older man countered as he walked ahead of Jim.

"Curious. Why do you live out here all alone?"

"After you left the service, didn't you want to be left alone?"

Jim nodded, his mind on memories, not on the man walking in front of him.

"I can't hear you when you nod, Captain."

The tone had the ring of an officer and Jim blinked, finding himsef eye to eye with Bishop's dark green gaze. "How long were you in the service?"

"Long enough."

"Could you possibly be a little bit more vague?"

For the first time since he'd met Bishop, Jim heard the man laugh quietly. "Once Blair is up and running again, I'm not going to stop him when he starts after you. You do know that, don't you? He has the persistence of a pit bull."

Pushing away branches that blocked the front of the cabin door, Bishop turned to look at Jim, "I think I can handle your young friend."

"You have no idea," Jim thought. Stepping through the doorway, he nodded and said quietly, "That's what I thought, too."

Simon had lit a lantern inside the cabin, as well as the small stone fireplace. The smell of baked fish and roasted potatoes permeated the air making Jim and Bishop's stomachs growl simultaneously.

"I was beginning to think I needed to go look for more bodies," Simon cracked as he took in the new ease and comfort between the two men. "Find anything?"

"I'll fill you in after I check on Blair." Sitting on the edge of the bed, Jim checked for a temperature and was pleased to find Blair cool to the touch. He also noticed that his boss had maintained the cloth to the back of the neck. "I'm back, Chief," he whispered.

"I did a couple neuro checks while you were gone," Simon said, coming to stand at their side. "He was a bit fuzzy the first time but he's done fine since then."

"How long's he been asleep?"

"Twenty minutes or so. I figured when he woke up next, I was going to try to get him to eat a little."

Blair's head turned slightly towards their voices. "You going to wake up, Blair?"

"Jim?" Heavy lids slid open and a small smile creased the corner of his painfilled eyes. "Not 'n book."

Leaning closer, Jim smoothed a stray curl from Blair's forehead. "What's that, Chief?"

Taking a deep breath, Blair slowly released it. "Book didn't mention getting hammered by a knife."

"I'm starting to think we need a totally separate book written just for you, Sandburg."

"Ha. Ha." Blair blinked then licked his lips. Anyone could recognize the dertermination that flooded his face right before he grasped Jim's arms."I want to sit up," he mumbled and with Jim's help made it to a seated position before groaning. His eyes clenched shut to stop the wave of dizziness when the room began to do a slow spin. "Oh, God, I think I'm gonna be sick."

Instantly Jim slipped between Blair and the log wall, using the cabin for support as he leaned back and made Blair rest against him. "Keep your eyes closed, Blair. You're going to be okay. Just breathe nice and slow. I've got you."

Simon and Bishop quietly watched Blair slowly relax in Jim's arms. The calming stillness was broken when Simon's stomach began to protest due to the lack of food.

Patting his flat abdomen, Simon grinned, "What do you say we have some dinner before I wither away?"

"Chief, you hungry?"

"Are you kidding?" Blair mumbled, cautiously opening one eye and looking about the room. No longer dizzy, he sat up straighter and gently touched the bump on the back of his neck.

"You need to eat," Bishop's firm quiet voice said from behind Simon. "I have soda crackers and could put on some water for tea if you don't want fish."

Both of Blair's eyes popped opened in surprise to stare at the stranger.

Jim felt Blair tense, "Chief, do you remember Bishop?"

For the first time the curly haired grad student really took in his surroundings. "Where are we?"

"Bishop's cabin."

Blair nodded slowly as he glanced back to the unfamiliar person, "You were in the forest."

"Yes."

Jim felt Blair relax back against him once more, knowing his friend had decided to trust Bishop. "I think I could try some dinner."

Jim filled in Simon concerning the plane and new strangers, as the men ate dinner. It was surprisingly pleasant inside the small cabin and although furnishings and supplies were sparse, Bishop's ingenuity enabled him to create whatever he needed. They pulled the small table over to the bed so Jim and Blair could sit on the mattress while Bishop and Simon used stools.

Blair's observant eyes didn't miss a thing as he turned to the quiet man seated across the small table, "Did you build this cabin?"

"Yes."

"Who helped you?"

"What makes you think someone did?"

Jim and Simon quickly glanced at one another, and then sat back to watch the games begin.

"Two stools."

Bishop's gaze never left Blair's face, but a small smile started to form. "That doesn't mean someone helped me build the cabin."

Blair nodded as his eyes glanced over the log walls and split beam ceiling. "On the shelf where you keep your tea box, you have a table setting for two."

"Anything else?"

Blair grinned as he got warmed up. "Marks on the floor from where you moved the table. One side is clearly worn while the other has scuffmarks from sporadic use. Most individuals who live alone maintain a specific pattern and rarely vary."

Taking a deep breath, he continued, "Also, the split marks on the roof beams are made by left _and_ right-handed individuals. I've only seen you use your right hand."

Three sets of eyes traveled to the ceiling as they tried to figure out how Blair could tell a pattern.

"A tree is split from top to bottom with an axe, creating the original split and finished using a wedge and sledge hammer. The wedge leaves marks in the direction of the force of the swing, either left or right. Your ceiling has both."

Silence filled the room as the three older men stared at one another and then began to laugh.

"I'm impressed, son," Bishop chortled. "Yes, a friend helped me build the cabin."

"Chief, how can you see marks on a ceiling clearly but can't find the hamper in the bathroom?"

Blair rolled his eyes.

"Speaking of bathroom," Simon stood up and looked to Bishop, "which way?"

"I'll show you."

Jim and Blair watched the others' backs as the door closed behind them.

Once alone, Blair closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall.

"Chief?"

"What are we going to do?"

"Tomorrow, Simon and I will go down to the water and try to find out what's going on. One of us has to go back to notify the authorities."

Blair stiffened, "You're leaving me here?"

"Sandburg, you might have a slight concussion. It's going to be one hell of a hike out of here and, if one of us can get some help, it could be a lot easier for you."

The young man opened his mouth to protest, but found himself too tired to argue with Jim. Tipping sideways, he let his friend guide him down to the pillow and pull a blanket over his shoulders. A warm hand brushed against his forehead and then gently over the back of his hair as Jim checked the bump.

"Why don't you take a couple more aspirin before you sleep?" Jim asked quietly, still softly stroking Blair's hair back from his face.

Feeling a small nod under his hand, Jim rose and got what he needed, assisting Blair and then sitting once more at his friend's side. "Rest, Chief. Tomorrow, we'll get this all taken care of and get you home."

(The man without a face ran past him through the forest towards Jim, slicing a large knife through the air and into his friend's back. "No!" he shouted as he watched his friend fall. Struggling against the hands that held him from reaching his friend, Blair fought like a wild man.)

"Blair, son, wake up; it's a dream, only a dream." Bishop gently shook the young man's arm, trying to stop the frightening visions only Blair could see.

"Jim," Blair choked as he abruptly sat up and banged into Bishop.

"Jim's fine, son. He'll be right back." Not sure what to do and uncomfortable with physical contact with another person, Bishop patted Blair awkwardly on the back.

"Blair, your friends went to see where the other fellows went. They should be back any time now for breakfast."

Dark blue eyes looked up to meet his and Bishop saw the look he still felt at times, that he never deserved to see. Why people wanted him to be responsible for that kind of trust, when all he ever did was fail, caused a flood of painful memories. Abruptly standing up, he went to the hand pump at the small sink and got Blair a glass of water. Thrusting it towards the young man without touching him, he walked over to the door and looked out to see if the others would return soon.

"Sorry," Blair sighed, rubbing his head as he pulled himself together and tried to forget the vestiges of the nightmare.

Bishop turned to face him from the doorway, the sunlight spilling around his back into the cabin. "No, I'm sorry Blair, it's just that, I haven't, I'm not able to… ah hell son, I'm no good."

Blair shifted so that his feet touched the floor. Slowly rising, he made his way to the doorway. "What do you mean 'no good'? " Watching the rigid man, Blair noticed the way Bishop kept his distance. "It was you who pulled me out of the water, wasn't it?"

The big man once again shrugged at this observation.

"Why do you stay up here all alone? Because you think you're no good?"

Bishop turned stiffly to look back out the doorway. His shoulders and demeanor screamed not to be touched, but Blair knew differently. Placing his hand on the arm of the ex-soldier, he waited.

"What happened?" he asked quietly.

Bishop drew a deep breath, almost lost under the young man's spell and wanting to tell what occurred, but quickly stepped away. "Let me show you where the outhouse is. I imagine you might need a trip by now."

Blair watched the man walk away, and made a personal vow to help Bishop, before he went after him.

Jim and Simon spotted the four from the plane at the water's edge.

The leader stood with his arms folded, squinting from the glare of the sun. "Jackson, somewhere close by is 3 million dollars worth of diamonds. All you have to do is go swimming and find them. Do you think that's easy enough?"

Jackson shifted from foot to foot uneasily, "Look, boss, those stones could be anywhere. Without Spenser here to tell us where, I'm going to need some help."

The boss turned to glare at his antsy diver. Shaking his head in disgust, he turned to the other two members of his team, "Either of you swim? Mills? Mickey?"

"I'm not going near the water, Rick," Mills sneered. "I fly planes and that's it. Send Mickey, he likes it."

"Mick, what do you say you suit up and help Jackson?"

The man called Mick worked the toothpick stuck in his teeth, "Whatever gets me out of this Godforsaken wilderness, I'll do, Rick. Freakin' boonies. What the hell possessed Spenser to come out here, anyway?"

"Well, shit Mick, where's a guy to go that's a weekly feature on America's Most Wanted?" Rick waved his arms in the air sarcastically, "Do you see any cops around here?"

Mick stomped back to the campsite, "This sucks, man. I'm not doing anything until I eat."

"Mills," Rick ordered, "fix breakfast."

Mills stared at the boss, "Kiss my ass, Rick. I'm not your damn chef."

Rick pulled a 9mm Beretta from his shoulder holster, clicking off the safety and pointing it towards his pilot. "I don't care how damn good of a pilot you might think you are, but I do know a bird can't fly with one wing."

"You're not going to shoot me," the disgruntled man sneered. "Who'd fly your ass home?"

Shaking his head, Rick holstered his weapon, walking past the defiant member of his group. "Just remember, Mills, who's in charge of this little operation. I might not shoot you today, but there's always tomorrow."

Once the group returned to their camp, Jim and Simon made their way back to the cabin.

Blair walked around the cabin, running his fingers over the hand-made furniture, while Bishop fixed breakfast. Stopping beside a small bookshelf, he skimmed the titles, pulling off a battered Bible. Flipping it open to the presentation page, Blair read the dedication. 'To Lee, my beloved husband, May God protect you and make His face shine upon as you serve our country. Come home to me, my darling. With all my heart, your loving wife, Lynne. Sept 19, 1969.' A small, faded picture of a young woman in a flowery dress was tucked inside the front cover, along with a yellowed military airmail envelope addressed to Major Lee Preston.

The feeling of being watched washed over Blair as he looked up to catch Bishop staring him. "Is this your wife?" he asked quietly.

The gentle giant of a man, who was as big, if not bigger, than Simon, held out his hand and reverently cupped the picture that Blair placed on his open palm. "She was my wife." Placing the picture carefully back in the Bible, Bishop tucked the book back on the shelf.

Blair knew this wasn't going to be easy, as he picked up one of the stools and sat down beside where Bishop was cooking. "Where is she?"

Bishop stopped and stared into the fire, a wistful sorrow passing over his face. "Her name was Lynne. She was hurt in a car accident while I was on my second tour in Nam." His voice began to waver as he began to reveal a story he'd only shared once before in over twenty years. "I was too deep in-country to be pulled out in time. They…they sent a letter informing me that she had died."

Blair watched Bishop walk back to the open door and stare out into the forest. "I'm so sorry."

The older man didn't move, lost in his memories. "After my last Stateside leave, she discovered she was pregnant," he whispered. "It was to be our first. I knew it was going to be a girl just as pretty as her momma, but Lynne told me that she knew it was going to be a rambunctious young pup of a boy, just like his daddy." Turning to look at Blair, Bishop grinned through his tears, "She said 'woman's intuition' told her."

Tightening his shoulders once more, Bishop looked back out the door. "I used to pray a lot, every day, for my men, my country, my wife. Some of the young boys under my command thought for sure that I had missed my calling as a clergyman, and began to call me Bishop."

"Prayers are a waste of time, Blair," Bishop snapped returning to the fire and checking on breakfast.

Blair sat speechless on his stool. No words could heal a grief that deep. He decided to wait for his new friend to continue when he was ready.

"I watched boys, younger than you; die around me every day for six years, Blair. Boys that trusted me. Boys that I prayed for, begged God to protect and send back home safely to their momma's and daddy's. When I came home, my countrymen spit on me and called me a baby-killer. I had prayed for these people while I was gone. And my wife, every morning when I woke and every night before I slept, I lifted her up to Jesus. My prayers weren't answered, Blair."

"After I returned, I wasn't any good anymore. I just wanted to be left alone, so I came out here and lived in a cave like a crazy man." Bishop paused at the memory of how awful he'd become.

"What happened?" Blair asked.

"I ran into this boy forest ranger." Shaking his head, Bishop snorted, "Biggest pain in the ass I had ever met. He dogged me constantly, finding where I was staying; dropping by to share extra supplies he just happened to have. Blair, I wasn't very pleasant back then and tried my damnedest to scare him off. But the young pup just wouldn't leave me alone."

"On one of his trips, he began to share with me a story of his daddy and his service in Nam. Turns out his daddy died when this young ranger was only thirteen-years-old. He had a world of hurt still in his heart, and wanted to be close in some way to that special man that he remembered and lost. He decided that I could fill that hole."

"Well now, I wanted none of that. There was no way in hell anyone would ever be a part of my life again. But, next thing you know, this kid's telling me we need to build me a cabin. And every day as we worked he talked, and talked, and talked. Soon I missed the kid when he wasn't around. That was over twenty years ago. Although he's too old to be my son, I love him as if he were my own."

"When he told me he was getting married one day, I tried to stop him. He wouldn't have none of that, and demanded that I stand in for his daddy and be his best man. He told me that he knew how I felt about God, but he had a confession to make. Turns out this young man thinks I'm an answer to his prayers. That God brought me out here to help him get over the loss of his dad."

Blair shifted on the stool, totally engrossed in the story, "So, did you go?"

A smile graced the older man's features as he turned to pull the Bible off the shelf. Leafing through the worn pages, he pulled out a few photos, handing them over to Blair. Pointing to the first one, he nodded, "That one's on their wedding day."

Blair placed his finger on a tall man standing in a suit beside the groom, "Is that you?"

Bishop grinned, "I clean up pretty good for a crazy mountain man."

Blair laughed as he looked through the remaining photos. There were pictures of children, and family get-togethers, and of a lonely soldier once again returning to the world. "You have a beautiful family, Bishop."

"Yes, Blair, I do. I've discovered that God made me a new one and I pray for them every day."

"So why do you stay out here?"

"I'm not always out here, son. The kids made me an apartment above their garage to use whenever I want. But, I like to be out here. This is where I feel close to Lynne. Sometimes," he shrugged sadly, "sometimes it's too easy to slip back into who I was. Memories are hard, Blair. Some days, I can still hear the guns and cries of pain all around me, and I have to come back here to the silence."

Both men sat quietly, lost in their own memories, until the sound of approaching voices broke the stillness.

"Sounds like a couple of men ready for breakfast," Bishop commented as he stood up, put the Bible away, and then pulled the table back over to the bed. "You want to grab the stools, son?" Looking at the seating arrangements, he gradually smiled, "I think I'm going to need to make a couple more places to sit."

"Hey, Chief," Jim greeted as he entered the cabin. "How are you feeling this morning?"

"Pretty good, actually."

Simon passed the two men and headed straight for the fire, "Please, tell me my pre-dawn trek will be rewarded with coffee?"

Bishop grinned as he held up the steaming pot. "Blair, pass Simon a cup."

Soon the men were seated around the small table, listening to what Jim and Simon had found out.

"Diamonds?" Running his hands through his loose curls to push them off his face, Blair began to laugh and turned to Bishop, "Just to let you know, we never do anything the simple way."

"We, Sandburg?" Simon questioned raising one brow.

"Hey, I'm not always the one in trouble."

Bishop enjoyed the friendly banter around the table. "What's he talking about, Blair?"

Blair shot Jim a nasty glare, when his partner choked on a piece of bacon trying not to laugh. "Don't be casting stones if you can't even hang onto your own gun, Jim."

The detective mimicked Simon's raised brow, "Show him your book, Chief?"

"No."

Bishop realized that he was being baited, "I enjoy reading a good book. What do you have, Blair?"

The young man crossed his arms and glared at all three older men, "Fine." Walking over to his pack, he pulled out the red covered book and passed it to Bishop.

Bishop tried hard not to smile as he read the title and skimmed some of the pages. "A field manual is a good thing to keep, Blair. I still have mine from my time in the service in my footlocker."

Blair didn't seem convinced.

"Did you read this, Blair?"

"Cover to cover, including the additions."

"Will you remember how to follow all the instructions, if you need to?"

Blair smiled, "Sure. I have excellent memory recall."

"Well, then, this book may have caused you some discomfort at first, but I believe in the long run, you will be a better man because of it." Bishop handed the book back to Blair.

The grad student accepted the returned paperback with a smile of gratitude.

"Gentlemen, I think we've gotten a little off course," Simon gestured with a cigar in his hand. "Somehow we have to find a way to get those diamonds, before Rick and his crew, and stop them."

"When you saw them this morning, were they still looking on the north side of the inlet?" Bishop asked.

Jim looked to Simon for a moment, "They weren't in the water yet when we saw them, but they appeared to be interested in that general direction."

"Then they're looking in the wrong direction," Bishop smiled in triumph.

Simon stopped chewing on his cigar tip, "How do you know? Do you know where the stones are?"

"Exactly where, no. The general area, yes. The man who attacked Blair spent a lot of time in the water where Blair fell off. One day he put the red bandana on that rock after spending quite a bit of time submerged directly below."

"Do you know why the bandana was there?" Blair asked.

Bishop shook his head. "That man moved what had to be the stones at least a dozen times. It probably reminded him where he put them."

"So why'd he come after me?"

"Maybe he thought you saw them when you fell in or maybe just to scare you off, Chief," Jim suggested as he leaned forward onto the table. "So all we have to do is grab the stones before they do."

"Jim, there are four felons with guns on that shoreline. I don't think they're going to welcome us."

"Think about it, Simon. I can swim in from the outer edge of the inlet, spot the stones, and return. If I need to breathe, I can surface on the backside of the boulder. Their plane will block their view."

"Okay, Jim, but you're going to need some backup just in case they do spot you." Turning to Bishop, Simon nodded, "Do you have a weapon?"

Rising to his feet, Bishop pulled out his old footlocker from beneath the bed. He removed his service pistol and a hunting rifle as well as a couple of boxes of ammunition.

Blair silently watched as the others armed themselves. "What about me?"

"Stay here, Chief."

"Jim, you may need me. Why don't we just round these guys up and then look for the diamonds?"

"So far, Blair, they haven't done anything wrong that gives us grounds to round them up."

"What you're saying is, until they shoot at you, you can't arrest them? What about the guy that attacked me?"

Simon stopped at the doorway and looked back at his young friend pacing in front of the fireplace. "Blair, we don't have proof that he was a member of this bunch."

Jim stepped beside his annoyed partner, laying a hand on his shoulder, "Come on, Chief, take it easy. We're going to be okay. We should be back in a couple of hours. Why don't you try to rest?"

"This isn't the truck." Blair shrugged off Jim's hand, "You can't order me to stay here."

Bishop's voice broke the stalemate, "Son, I think your friends are thinking of you and your health. I'll keep an eye on them for you."

Blair met Bishop's penetrating gaze and then looked at Jim, seeing the brief glimpse of concern in his best friend's eyes. "I'll wait here for your return." Sitting on the edge of the bed, he didn't say another word as they left.

The three men made their way to the water's edge, away from the other group, stopping to make sure the others will still searching the wrong side of the inlet.

Stripped down to his shorts, Jim dove into the lake water, surfacing immediately as the ice cold temperature stole his breath away. "Oh, my, gosh, Simon," Jim gasped.

A small smile graced Bishop's face. "Suck it up, Captain," he ordered quietly. "We aren't getting any younger."

Simon kept all expression off his face until Jim disappeared beneath the surface. Meeting Bishop's gaze, he grinned. "You enjoyed that, didn't you?"

"You didn't hear me volunteer to go swimming, did you? Besides, I went in the other day."

Walking slowly along the tree line, the two men kept a careful eye on the strangers. Spotting their friend surface slightly behind the large boulder, they saw Jim hold a small article up in his hand.

"He's good," Bishop commented quietly.

"That he is," Simon replied as he elbowed the older man. "Just don't let him drive your car. You couldn't afford the premiums."

Watching Jim dive back under, Simon could have sworn that the detective flipped him the bird.

They walked silently back along the shoreline to the old campsite, as each took a turn looking at the diamonds. Still in the slimy black velvet bag labeled 'Langdon's of Seattle', once wiped off, the stones appeared to be exquisite.

"Jim, I vaguely recall a heist late last year, where a transport crew, carrying a Langdon's delivery, was killed at the border."

The detective nodded. "The stones were never recovered. Last night we heard one of the men say these were worth about 3 million. I think Seattle PD is going to owe us one. What do you think, Chief?"

Blair stepped out from behind a tree, not at all surprised that he'd been caught following them.

"Sandburg," Simon growled, shaking his head.

Bishop merely nodded, for he also had spotted the young man earlier, as they had made their way down to the water.

Jim handed the bag to Blair, watching him clean off a stone on his shirt and then hold it up to the bright sunlight.

"I know I keep asking this, but now what do we do?" Blair questioned, as he dropped the stone back in the bag, handing it back it to Jim.

Simon stopped to look towards the inlet behind them, "We need to round them up carefully and get them in custody before they hurt someone."

The detective nodded, "Divide and conquer. Going after all four at once would be risking a firefight. Chief, I want you stay with me."

Turning back to Bishop, Simon studied the quiet man in their group. "Do you know a way to the back side of the inlet?"

The former soldier stopped walking when he felt an old unforgiving tightness in his chest as he glanced uneasily towards Captain Banks. Slowly shaking his head, he stepped back from the others. 'Please God, not now,' he begged silently, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Bishop?" Blair reached out to stop him, recognizing the growing anxiety in the man's face. "You okay, man?"

"Sandburg, what the hell's going on?" the dark police captain whispered.

"I think he's having a flashback, Simon." Blair steadied the trembling man, using his guide voice, "Bishop, there's no one here that's going to hurt you. Tell me what you're seeing."

Lids clenched tight, Bishop's eyes began to move erratically beneath them as he watched the twenty-five year-old memory resurface. His breath hitched. Dressed in black with grease paint covering his face, the VC appeared behind Stillson, aiming a gun at the young man's back. "Get down, son!" he yelled, shoving Stillson/Blair painfully to the ground while drawing his weapon.

Blair held up his hand to stop Jim and Simon from approaching, as Bishop swung around to intercept them. "I'm safe, Major. It's Captains Ellison and Banks."

Bishop's gaze remained locked, his hand rock steady as he held his service pistol aimed at Simon's chest.

"Bishop, please, I need your help," Blair pleaded, trying to draw the man's gaze towards him, giving Jim an opportunity to get the gun.

Watching the older man shift his weight ever so lightly, Jim sensed the instant that Bishop would look in Blair's direction and dove to stop him, knocking him roughly to the ground. Unfortunately, Bishop's deadly grip on the trigger had not eased and the gun fired.

"Jim!" Blair and Simon called out simultaneously: both wanting to help, but not sure who had the gun.

The detective rolled slowly onto his back, one hand wrapped in a firm grip around the weapon, the other clutched to his side. "Chief," he gritted, trying to find the dial to bring down the burning pain.

"Jim, lie still and let me look," Blair ordered, as he lifted up the hem of Jim's shirt, studying the wound. Pulling off his jacket and flannel shirt, he quickly pressed the shirt against his friend's bleeding injury. "Looks like you lost part of a love handle, Jim." The older man glared at him, before closing his eyes. "It grazed you pretty deep, partner, but didn't go through. You and Bishop are going to have matching scars."

At the mention of the former soldier, Jim's eyes popped back open and he turned his head to see the other man.

Simon was kneeling beside Bishop, helping the seated man take a drink from his canteen. Somehow knowing that he was being watched, dark green eyes turned to meet Jim's gaze. Once again, the older man had resumed the quiet persona of the old hermit.

Jim tried to sit up, but Blair's hand held him still. "No, Jim, let me." Cautiously Blair lifted his shirt and checked on the bleeding. Seeing that it had slowed, he removed the compress. Taking off t-shirt, he tore it in to several strips, drenching one piece in water, he gently wash off Jim's side, and then folded another piece into a dry bandage. Secured in place with Jim's belt, Blair sat back to inspect his handiwork.

"Good job, Chief," Jim grunted, as he again tried to sit up.

"Learned it in the book," Blair murmured as he helped Jim get comfortable, before turning to help Bishop. Slipping his warm jacket back on over his bare chest, he moved to sit next to the quiet man. Anything Blair might have wanted to say was interrupted by the sound of a rifle fired close by.

"Jim?"

The sentinel sat with his head tipped sideways, listening. "Damn, Rick and his crew heard the gunshot and are headed this way." Rising unsteadily to his feet, with one hand holding his side, he made sure the stones were safely tucked in his pocket. "We've got to go, now."

Blair placed his arm cautiously around Jim's waist as Simon pulled Bishop to his feet. All four men headed towards the shelter of the trees.

"Gentlemen, what's your hurry?" A cold male voice called out behind them just as they reached the tree line.

Simon turned to face four men holding weapons. "We've had an accident and need to get back to our campsite."

Rick studied the group, his eyes narrowing as he glanced about. "No camps around here that we've seen."

The police captain nodded off in to the woods, "It's just around the other edge of the lake."

The group leader didn't seem to be falling for Simon's story. "What are you boys doing over here?"

"Hiking," Blair, answered.

Rick walked closer to the odd group, spying the blood on Jim's jacket and shirt. "What's wrong with you?"

"I fell."

"You fell. Well, that's strange. You look pretty neat for a man that just fell and was bleeding pretty good." Walking around the group, he stopped behind Jim, "I thought I heard a gunshot." Suddenly he slammed the butt of his rifle into Jim's wounded side, dropping the detective to the ground.

"Jim," Blair cried out, reaching for his partner, but was stopped by the rifle's muzzle pressed against his chest.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"He's hurt. What's your problem, man? We didn't do anything to you."

Cold steel gray eyes bore into Blair's frightened blue ones. "Where's the gun?"

Nobody moved.

"Mick," Rick ordered, "help these gentlemen with their jackets."

The man named Mick menacingly stood in front of Simon and waited for him to unzip his coat. Simon held his arms out as the stranger reached underneath his coat and searched him for weapons, withdrawing his hand with the Captain's pistol.

"Look what we got here, Rick."

Rick took the gun and sighted down the barrel towards Simon's chest. "Very nice. Looks like a piece a cop might use." Tossing the gun towards Mills, Rick shook his head. "Tsk, tsk, gentlemen, I think you're holding out on me. Get me his wallet, Mick."

Mick again reached behind Simon and withdrew his wallet, handing it to Rick.

"Captain Simon Banks, Cascade Police Department," Rick closed the wallet shut with a snap. "Well, Captain, this changes things."

Mick stood in front of Bishop and waited for the mountain man to open his coat. When it was clear that he wasn't going to, Mick poked Bishop in the chest with his gun. "Hey big fella, show me what you got."

Dark green eyes looked down at Mick and the gunman found himself taking an involuntary step back. The click of a safety being switched off behind Bishop stopped the big man from doing anything else. Slowly he unbuttoned his coat and waited while being searched.

"He's clean. He's not carrying a wallet either."

Blair was next. Unzipping his jacket, he revealed that he wasn't wearing a shirt and didn't have a weapon. Slowly he reached for his wallet and handed it to the gunman.

Rick studied the wallet before tucking it in his pocket. "Hey, Blair," he drawled the young man's name out, "where's your shirt? These big boys partying with you out here?"

Blair shifted uncomfortably on his feet as he tried to block Jim from the gunmen. He heard his partner moving behind him and didn't want him to be hurt again.

"I'm talking to you, Blair. Where's your shirt?"

"I used it for a bandage."

Rick's gaze shifted to the man lying on the ground, and then back to Blair. "Doesn't happen to have a gunshot wound, does he? You fellas running from the law?" Looking towards Simon, Rick gestured with his rifle towards Jim and Blair, "These boys giving you a hard time, Captain?"

Simon didn't move.

"I could kill them now for you, if you'd like, and save the taxpayers some money."

When Simon didn't answer, Rick turned back to Mick and pointed to Jim, "Check him."

"He's carrying, boss." Mick held up Jim's gun. "No ID on him, though. Hey, Rick, he's bleeding pretty badly."

The leader glanced at Blair, "Patch him up, again." Turning to Jackson and Mick, the leader ordered, "Take the two big ones back to camp. Mills and I will bring these two."

Blair's heart sped up seeing Simon and Bishop being led away at gunpoint.

Sensing the young man's anxiety, Simon nodded towards their wounded friend. "Help him, Blair. We'll be alright."

Blair dropped to his knees beside Jim and was surprised when his partner grasped his leg. "How're you doing?"

"I think he broke something, Chief," Jim gasped as Blair tenderly ran his fingers over the large bruise that had formed quickly on Jim's side.

"He got you in the kidney, Jim, and you're bleeding again. We need to get you to a hospital."

Jim grunted as Blair helped him sit up, stopping to catch his breath by leaning against the younger man's chest. Slowly he wrapped his arm around Blair's waist, underneath his jacket, and slipped Bishop's gun into Blair's waistband. "I was laying on it," he whispered when he felt his friend stiffen.

"If you two are done courting, let's get this show on the road," Rick ordered.

Mills pulled Jim gruffly to his feet, letting Blair steady the swaying man.

Rick followed closely behind them with his gun aimed at their backs. "Blair, you and your big friend here didn't happen to run across another fella by himself out here, did you?"

"No."

"Well, now, you see that's kind of funny, because you fellas were 'hiking' in the area where he's supposed to be."

Blair and Jim remained quiet as they each focused on keeping Jim upright during the walk to the camp. Blair could feel the older man trying not to lean too heavily on him, so he wrapped his arm tighter around Jim's waist and pulled him closer. "Come on, Jim; let me help you so you can ease the pain down," he said softly and was rewarded with a light squeeze to his shoulder.

Mills glanced over at Blair and then to Jim. Rolling his eyes, he let go of any support he might have been giving Jim and stepped back beside Rick, "What the Hell are you up to? We don't need to be spending our time dragging around a bunch of deadweight."

"I've got a hunch; these fellas know more than they're saying."

"Damnit, Rick," the angry pilot retorted.

Rick stopped, glaring at his cohort. "Last time I checked, you took orders from me. Your job is to get us home."

"You know, old man; I'm sick and tired of 'following your orders'. Spence and the stones are long gone. He used you and bailed. He's probably on some warm beach, sippin' Margaritas, with a lady on each arm, by now."

The jewel thief was tired of being challenged by his crew. He also had entertained the thought that Spenser was long gone by now. Rage flooded him and he struck out, hitting Mills squarely on the jaw, knocking the man to the ground.

Mills climbed back up to his feet, spitting out blood from his split lip. "That's it, old man, you're going down." Lunging towards the older man, he tackled him, and they both ended up rolling on the rocky ground. An all out fight ensued and the two men forgot about their captives as they tried to kill one another. The sound of a bone being snapped and one of the men howling in pain filled the air.

Jim knew this was the opportunity they needed. "Give me the gun, Chief," he urged quietly.

Blair reached for the pistol in the back of his waistband and slipped it to his friend. "Are you up to this? I can hold the gun on them."

"You have to tie them up, Chief." Stepping towards the two men fighting on the ground, Jim removed the bag of stones from his pocket and dropped it near them.

Both men stopped and gazed towards the bag, and then to the man standing and pointing a gun at them.

"Gentlemen, you're under arrest," the detective said in his iciest tone of voice. "Move away from each other, slowly." Seeing them separate and move out of arms-length of one another, he motioned with the gun, "That's far enough. Chief, get their weapons."

Blair thoroughly checked both men, removing a small arsenal from each, and placing the items behind Jim. "This guy's arm is broken, Jim," Blair said pointing to Mills, who was hugging his damaged limb to his chest.

Jim nodded. "Now, both of you take off your boots and remove the laces."

When Rick suddenly lunged towards him, Jim pointed the gun between the man's eyes. "I'm not in the mood for games." He watched the man sit back down and slowly remove his boots and laces.

"Tie them up, with their arms around a tree. Careful with his broken arm, Chief."

Blair did as Jim instructed. When finished with his task, he returned to his friend, noticing the sheen of perspiration coating Jim's face. "Hey man," he said softly, "you need to sit down."

Jim nodded and sank to the ground with his friend's arms wrapped around him in support. "Blair, you have to help Simon and Bishop." Closing his eyes, he collapsed back on the ground. "I don't think I can go with you," he whispered.

Lifting Jim's shirt, Blair checked the bandages. As gently as possible, he traced his fingers over Jim's side checking for any swelling or stiffness. When his friend inhaled sharply as his fingers touched the lower rib cage area, Blair knew that at least one rib was broken. "Aww, Jim," he murmured in sympathy. Running his hand over Jim's sweaty brow, checking for a fever, Blair knew he had to go get Simon, now.

Quickly, he gathered what few supplies there were between Rick and his goon: a small canteen, Simon's pistol and wallet, his wallet, and a set of keys. Filling the canteen with cold water from the lake, he pressed the container to Jim's lips. "Hey buddy, try to take a little, okay."

Pale blue eyes cracked open to meet Blair's worried eyes. "This is a switch," Jim mumbled.

"What's that?"

"You," Jim stopped to swallow some water, "you're usually on this side of the injury." Closing his eyes, Jim rolled his head to lean against the canteen Blair was holding, sighing as the cold metal eased his hot forehead. "I'm glad you're okay, Chief. Hate to see you hurt," were the last words he said before passing out.

Blair stared at his partner, a tear slowly falling to the ground. He wiped it away gruffly. "Knock it off, Sandburg. Jim needs you to get Simon and Bishop," he scolded himself aloud.

Rising to his feet, he went to check on the prisoners. Worried that they might yell as soon as he left, he pulled each man's warm socks off, rolled up the clean end, and gagged them. They had started to protest when they realized what the young man was going to do. Blair stopped them, "I could have put the other end in your mouth, so shut up."

Walking back over to Jim, he check him one more time, then pulled his arm out of his coat and poured some water on the cuff. Carefully wiping dirt off the older man's forehead, he studied the face he loved like a brother. "I'll be back soon, Jim, I promise."

Blair made his way silently around the inlet, to the camp where Simon and Bishop were being held. He could see his friends sitting on the ground with their hands tied behind their backs.

He was pretty certain how Simon would react to this situation, but he didn't have a clue as to Bishop. Was the man still trapped in the past, or would he be able to help? Now was not the time for the doctoral student to start practicing Psych 101.

Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly and walked closer to the camp, going from behind one tree to the next. Watching as the one named Jackson paced nervously back and forth, looking for Rick and Mills, while the one named Mick sat and stared menacingly at the captives with his rifle across his lap, Blair realized that somehow he was going to have to break the pair up. Reaching into his pockets, all he found was the set of keys, his Swiss army knife, and a couple fossilized rocks he'd picked up from the other night.

Glancing around the tree again, he fingered the rocks as he watched Jackson. If hitting a giant with a stone worked for David taking out Goliath, then he could take out one skinny bad guy.

The perfect moment came when Jackson wandered past the plane, stepping out of Mick's line of sight. Blair whipped the rock with all of his might, hitting the diver square on the temple, dropping him silently to the ground.

"Yes!" he mouthed silently, with his fist in the air, one down, one to go.

Mick must have sensed that something was wrong because he stood up, pulling Jim's gun from beneath his coat while slipping the strap of the rifle over his shoulder. Walking slowly backwards with the handgun pointed at Simon, he looked around the plane and saw Jackson on the ground. "I know you're out there!" he yelled. "I'll shoot them dead if you don't step out where I can see you, right now!"

When no one appeared, Mick fired the weapon into the dirt beside Simon. "I'm not wasting another bullet," he threatened.

Blair rolled the remaining rock in his left hand while holding Simon's gun in his right. Slipping the safety off with his index finger, he took a deep breath and whipped the rock, hitting the plane's wing. When Mick glanced towards the aircraft, Blair pointed the pistol and fired.

"Sandburg. Blair, snap out of it," Simon's voice called to frozen young man.

When Blair felt something bump into his arm, he blinked and jerked the pistol back up.

"Whoa, whoa, Blair, it's me, Simon. You did good, son."

Blair blinked again and was surprised to find the dark captain standing in front of him, smiling. "Simon, what happened? Did I hit him?"

"You caught him in the shoulder, Sandburg, clean shot. He's going to recover nicely in jail." Simon watched as Blair processed that he hadn't killed someone. "Blair, how about untying us so we can help you?"

Blair looked around Simon and saw Bishop leaning on Mick, with his knee pressed into the man's chest, holding him still. Bishop's hands were still tied behind his back, or Blair was almost certain that the mountain man would most likely be throttling the injured bad guy.

While still holding Simon's gun, he reached into his pocket with his other hand and pulled out his knife. "Turn around and I'll cut you loose."

"Why don't you hand me the gun or put it down first, Sandburg?" the captain ordered gruffly with a smile.

Blair looked down at his hand and dropped Simon's gun like a hot potato.

"Nice, Sandburg. Do you have any idea how much that costs?" When Blair didn't respond to his ribbing, Simon started to get worried. "Where's Jim, Blair?"

Blair stood behind Simon as he cut the ropes. "I had to leave him back there, so I could come help you."

With his hands free, the tall captain turned to face the brave young man who had rescued him, resting his hands on the trembling shoulders. "I'll say it again, Blair, you did really good. Let's get Bishop and take care of these two idiots, so we can go check on your partner."

Blair nodded and followed Simon, down to where Bishop and Mick were. Cutting the gentle giant's hands free, Blair was surprised to find himself fully engulfed in a huge hug.

"Son, I'm so sorry," the big man said when he released Blair.

"It's okay, Bishop. I understand," he said with a smile, "and I think Jim does, too."

Simon tied up their two prisoners, after checking their injuries. "Speaking of your wayward partner, let's go get him, Sandburg."

Walking quickly back along the shoreline, the three men were startled to see a large trout splash on the surface of the lake, before disappearing back into the deep blue-green depths.

"Did you know that miners and loggers brought young fish up here in milk cans, to stock these lakes, back in the mid-1800's, Simon?"

"Oh, Lord, here we go again," Simon, grinned while rolling his eyes.

Rounding the bend of the inlet, the group was surprised to find Jim sitting propped up against an old stump, with a rifle across his lap. He looked exhausted and in pain, but happy to see them.

"Hey, Chief, you telling stories again?" he asked quietly.

"Jim," Blair cried out, happy to see his friend awake. "What are you doing here? Why'd you move? You didn't hurt yourself, did you?"

Jim smiled tiredly at his partner. "I've had better days, Chief, but now that I see all of you okay, I know I'll be fine."

Blair fussed over Jim, while Simon and Bishop untied Rick and Mills, getting a good laugh over the makeshift gags. Retying their captives, they led them back over to where Jim and Blair sat.

"Ready to go home, Jim?" Simon asked.

The detective nodded as he braced his arm tight against his sore side, while Bishop and Blair helped him to his feet. Looking at the big man beside him, Jim questioned quietly, "You okay?"

Bishop's dark green eyes looked down at him for a moment before a hint of a smile touched his face. "The day's been a bit rough, but yes, son, I'm okay." The smile faded when he heard Jim gasp while being moved, and he had to look away, "I feel bad about hurting you."

"Hey," Jim said softly, "I understand. It was an accident. "

Bishop nodded and looked over Jim's head to Blair. The young man was smiling and mouthed 'I told you so' back at him.

The late afternoon sun shone brightly across the mountain, casting long shadows out across the lake, by the time the group was finally situated back at Rick's camp.

"Jim needs a doctor, Simon, so I think we should go now."

Simon looked at the ragtag group of prisoners and friends. "I can hike back down the trail and get help."

"That's not necessary, Simon," Blair answered.

"What do you have in mind, Chief?" Jim asked as he saw a gleam appear in Blair's eyes.

Blair held up the keys he'd been holding in his pocket and smiled.

"What do those go to?"

The young man pointed to the shiny gold and white Cessna floating on the water.

"Oh, no way, Chief."

"I don't think so, Sandburg."

"Look, Jim needs a doctor and so does he," Blair said pointing to Mills and his broken arm. "The book had a chapter on flying and it seems pretty rudimentary to me. With Mills in the plane, if a problem should arise, he can either help me out, or crash with the rest of us. Right, Mills?"

The pilot looked as though he was going to be sick. He studied Blair for a moment, judging the man and his words, finally nodding. His arm ached terribly and was willing to try anything to get some relief.

"Sandburg, you've taken a spill yourself recently and got hit in the head, in case you've forgotten. Are you sure you're up to this?"

"Simon, we have to get Jim to a doctor. I can do this."

The captain looked at the group and nodded. "I can't go with you, Blair. I have to stay here."

"I understand, Simon. We'll radio for help once we clear the mountain."

Simon studied his young friend and smiled. "I know you can do it, Blair. Jim, you up to this?" he asked, turning to look at his friend sitting on the ground.

Jim opened his eyes and sighed tiredly, "I trust him with my life, Simon. If he says he can fly, then he can fly."

Simon and Bishop got Jim situated behind the pilot's seat. Next, they gave Mills a hand up into the plane.

"Try anything and you'll find yourself in more trouble than you could ever imagine," Simon threatened.

The pilot swallowed and nodded.

Blair stood outside the plane waiting for his friends to finish. When Bishop approached looking more at peace than Blair could remember seeing, he smiled.

"Son," the former hermit said with a hand to Blair's shoulder, "you come back when you're friend's feeling better.

Blair's smile grew and he wrapped an arm over the large shoulder. "We'll come back, because I didn't catch any fish!" He paused for one last look towards the inlet, "I owe you my life, thank you."

"I owe you a lot, too, Blair," Bishop said softly. "Take care. Now quit your stalling, it's time to get your friend home."

Simon held the door as Blair slipped past him to take the pilot's seat. "See you soon, Sandburg. Jim, take it easy."

Simon and Bishop untied the lines, pushed the plane back out into the water, and each gave Blair 'thumbs up'.

The young man smiled as he slipped the headset on and adjusted his sunglasses. Soon the loud rumble of the airplane engine filled the inlet as it turned and taxied out onto the lake. With a slow start, and then increasing momentum, the small plane smoothly lifted off the water and headed…east.

"Wrong way, Sandburg," Simon snorted in disbelief before the plane banked sharply toward the west. Settling dark sunglasses on the bridge of his nose to block the glare from the water, he turned in time to see Bishop shaking his head sowly.

"Not too good with directions, I take it?"

"Some things you can't teach in a book."

The two men stood side by side, watching the small plane disappear over the mountain. Tomorrow, they'd all be together again.

The End


End file.
